[1966 – 1978] The Twelve Years: Joaquín Balaguer's Dominance

The years are 1966 to 1978. The Dominican Republic, still bearing the fresh scars of civil war and foreign intervention, found itself under the precise, often chilling, control of one man: Joaquín Balaguer. His era, known simply as "The Twelve Years," would etch itself deeply into the nation's soul, a complex tapestry of progress and profound, often brutal, repression. Imagine a land of vibrant greens and azure waters, where the scent of frangipani mixed with the exhaust of newly imported cars. Balaguer, a diminutive, soft-spoken scholar with a penchant for poetry and an iron will, had returned to power. He was an old hand from the Trujillo dictatorship, a master of political maneuvering. His public persona was one of austere dedication, often seen in a simple dark suit, even in the Caribbean heat, a stark contrast to the flamboyant strongmen of the past. Yet, beneath this quiet exterior lay a ruthless pragmatist. The early days were tense. Whispers travelled faster than the official news broadcasts. Fear was a constant companion for many. Political opponents, student activists, labor leaders – anyone deemed a threat to Balaguer's consolidation of power – could find themselves targeted. Paramilitary groups, most notoriously "La Banda Colora," roamed with impunity. Estimates vary, but hundreds, perhaps even a few thousand, were killed or "disappeared" during these twelve years. A chilling statistic, where each number represented a family shattered, a future stolen. For many, daily life became a careful navigation of what could be said, and to whom. The wrong word in the wrong ear could have dire consequences. The vibrant merengue that filled the airwaves sometimes felt like a forced gaiety, masking a deeper anxiety. Yet, this was also an era of undeniable construction. Balaguer famously pursued a policy some called "Pan y Palo" – bread and the stick. While the "palo" was wielded with ruthless efficiency, the "pan" came in the form of massive public works projects. Concrete was king. New highways sliced through the countryside, connecting previously isolated towns. Dams rose, promising electricity and irrigation – the Tavera Dam, for instance, was a monumental undertaking. Schools and hospitals, often bearing his name, appeared in cities and rural areas alike. Santo Domingo, the capital, saw its skyline change. Avenidas like the 27 de Febrero and John F. Kennedy became arteries of a modernizing city, lined with new apartment buildings and commercial centers. The architectural style of public edifices often leaned towards a stark, imposing neo-classicism, symbols of state power and order. Balaguer even initiated the controversial and hugely expensive Faro a Colón (Columbus Lighthouse), a monumental cross-shaped structure intended to be a beacon for the Americas, though its completion would lie far in the future. This construction boom fueled a degree of economic growth, averaging around 5.5% GDP growth annually during much of this period. Foreign investment, particularly from the United States (who saw Balaguer as a stable, anti-communist ally in a turbulent region), flowed in. The sugar industry, a traditional pillar of the Dominican economy, continued to be vital, its fortunes fluctuating with world prices. For a burgeoning middle class and those connected to the regime, there were opportunities. New cars, televisions becoming more common in urban homes, and access to imported goods signaled a rising prosperity for some. Clothing styles followed international trends of the late 60s and 70s – bell bottoms and bolder prints appeared, adapted to the tropical climate. Men of status often favored the practical elegance of the *chacabana* shirt. However, this prosperity was not evenly distributed. For the urban poor in sprawling barrios like Guachupita or Los Mina, and for the rural campesinos, life remained a struggle. The gleaming new infrastructure often felt distant from their daily realities of finding work and feeding their families. Migration from the countryside to Santo Domingo accelerated, as people sought opportunities that were often scarce, leading to overcrowded neighborhoods and increased social pressures. The social structure remained deeply hierarchical, with a small elite, often intertwined with the political power structure, controlling a disproportionate amount of wealth. Technologically, beyond the large-scale infrastructure, the era saw a slow but steady increase in access to radio, which remained the dominant mass medium, and the gradual spread of television ownership in urban centers. These media were, of course, heavily controlled or influenced by the government, broadcasting official narratives of progress and stability. As the years wore on, the façade of invincibility began to show cracks. International scrutiny of human rights abuses grew, and domestic discontent, though suppressed, simmered. The 1978 election approached with a palpable tension. Would Balaguer, the master survivor, relinquish power if the vote went against him? The story of that election, and its dramatic aftermath, would mark the end of The Twelve Years, but not the end of Balaguer's influence on the Dominican Republic. This period, a stark lesson in the dualities of power, left an indelible mark: a legacy of concrete and fear, of development shadowed by disappearances, a complex inheritance the nation continues to grapple with.